


An Epilogue.

by rosetintedlightsaber



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Ben Solo Deserved Better, Ben Solo Lives, Ben and Rey are still love sick idiots and we live for it, Ben is a middle aged Dad what more could you want?, Dad!BenSolo, Devoted Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Epilogue, F/M, Fluff, Happily Ever After, Naboo is absolutely stunning, No Angst, One Shot, Planet Naboo (Star Wars), Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Redeemed Ben Solo, Rey Solo, Rey and Ben are the softest parents, Rey deserved better, Romance, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Soft Ben Solo, an epilogue, married!reylo, mom!rey, this is just pure heart warming shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:54:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosetintedlightsaber/pseuds/rosetintedlightsaber
Summary: “There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time.”A soft epilogue for Ben Solo and Rey on Naboo, just like we all wanted.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Reylo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	An Epilogue.

The Lake Country is the most isolated area of the planet Naboo. With its rolling hills, large grassy expanse and picturesque waterfalls, it’s a self-advertisement for domestic bliss. 

Far away from the noise and populace of Theed, farmers often take up residence here. For those looking for a quiet, simple life, absent of unwanted attention, the Lake Country offers a welcome with open arms.

It had been a perfect place for them to build a home.

During the daytime, the singular sun decorates the crystal waterfalls in diamonds, coaxing native wildlife to soak up its rays and bask in the warmth. On a night-time —as it is this very moment— the three moons blanket the grassy landscape in a silver glow, drawing out the light whisper of a breeze that makes the trees move and the Millaflowers dance. 

It’s beautiful, peaceful and _green_. 

A man with platinum wisps peppered through his once all raven locks, with more accentuated laugh lines and crow's feet tailing from the corner of his chocolate eyes, sits on the back porch to his home he moved in with his wife seventeen years ago. With his feet kicked up against the stone fencing surrounding the balcony that overlooks the lake, he lounges on a rocking chair with his eyes slipped shut, large hands placed behind his head. He breathes in the earthy scent of foliage, mixed with the home cooked meal wafting from the sliding door cracked open behind him. 

Peace and family were once foreign words to the man who had known loneliness, pain, fear and anger more than any soul. But as the man drifts between consciousness and sleep, he no longer feels the dull ache in his heart. Nor is the guilt as feral as it used to be, now that he has married the other half of his soul, held his children in his arms for the first time, now that _their home_ is filled with continuous warm laughter and splitting smiles. 

A smile of his own lies lazily on his plush lips as he listens to the muffled sounds of his children’s chatter through the walls, as he listens to his wife’s loving thoughts and feels the strength of their Force signatures intertwine with his own.

“Dad?” Questions a young boy’s voice, jostling the man from his reverie. The boy looks far too much like himself, the man thinks, with wild curly hair, an unfortunately large nose and sticky-out-ears. The boy that has far too much of his mother’s feistiness and her stubbornness but thankfully has her sunbeam smile, her bubbly laugh. “Mom, says dinner’s ready. She told me to come get you,” the boy continues. 

Ben Solo turns to his twelve-year-old son, painfully aware of how old he has become as his back aches and his eyesight blurs slightly. He laughs as his son grimaces at the thought of his mother’s cooking and he himself isn’t too thrilled at the concept either; though he would never tell his wife that.

He would never tell his love that had spent her first nineteen years without food most days, that she can’t cook to save her life — She tries, _really_ tries. 

“Alright, Grey I’m coming,” Ben returns, scuffing up the mop of his son’s hair as he walks to enter his kitchen.

He slides the glass door wider so his large frame can fit through, deciding to take off Han Solo’s old jacket as the heat from the cooking is dense compared to the cool outside air. 

His twin daughters (Aneya and Maiia, aged sixteen) are caught up in idle chatter sitting at the dining table, where they will all dine and attempt to swallow his wife’s cooking. Rey is busy plating up on the kitchen counter. She fills five large plates of food and one small, plastic toddler bowl for their two-year-old boy Tai, who is quietly playing with a toy X-Wing on their living room carpet. 

Grey moves to sit on the seat opposite his sisters before he is told to help with laying the table. He huffs in reply.

“Don’t huff at me young man,” returns Rey, “you’ll think twice about missing training without telling us if you don’t want to do more chores.” 

“Yeah, missing training so he can hang out with his _girlfriend,_ ” teases Aneya, her face laden with mischief. 

“Lily’s not my girlfriend! Dad, tell her,” Grey looks desperately up at his father. 

Ben holds his hands in mock surrender, saying nothing as a small chuckle pushes past his lips. 

He walks to scoop up Tai from the living room, prying the toy from his chubby little fingers. He returns back to the kitchen to sit at the dining table with his youngest son on his lap. The toddler giggles as his father bounces him on his knee, the sound tickling Ben’s ears and warming his heart. 

The small toddler is a lot quieter than any other of his children were at two —hardly speaking more than a few words a day if they're lucky. Rey worries about their amber-eyed, mousey-brown haired son, with a small nose and pointed lips just like her. She worries that the boy is shy or nervous, though Ben knows he’s okay. He tells her that he’ll talk more in his own time —when he’s comfortable. 

Ben would never put any ounce of pressure on his children; they would simply be who they _are._ And if that meant not talking, so be it, as long as Tai’s happy and healthy. 

He knows from experience what pressure can do to a child.

Maiia —the youngest of the twins by five minutes, who has tanned skin and a dusting of freckles over her button nose— sits opposite Ben, attempting to braid her long, oak brunette hair into the pattern he had shown her the previous night. She huffs and groans when she can’t quite reach the back of her head. “Dad, can you show me again after dinner?” She gestures to the half-completed braid falling over her shoulder, “I want to look pretty for mom’s birthday party tomorrow.” 

“I’m not having a party, May, I’ve told you this.” Rey corrects, setting down their plates in front of her family along with her eldest son, “It’s just your uncles and aunt Rose are popping down.” 

Ben gives his youngest daughter a knowing wink, earning a soft smile from her — Maiia’s been planning it for weeks. “You’ve almost got it, princess. Just hook it under rather than over. It’s easier that way.”

Maiia tries again, finishing her Alderaanian braid meaning beauty and strength — because his daughter is the embodiment of those — a lot easier than she had previously. She lets out a small victorious giggle and a “thanks, dad!”, and it makes Ben’s heart swell with love.

“Ben, put him on his own chair. You need to eat too,” says Rey as she sits down beside him, giving him a small kiss on his crown.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll eat after him. He’s just chilling, aren’t ya little man?” The toddler has no reply, and instead bangs his small plastic fork against the wooden surface of the table. Ben shrugs to his wife, leaning over to peck her cheek.

The family of six dig into their plates, all giggling when Tai drops some of his food onto Ben’s lap. He wipes himself up with a napkin, shaking his head with a fond grin painted at his mouth. 

Their eldest, Aneya —a stark contrast to her twin, with her pitch-black wavy hair, porcelain skin and sharp features— sits quietly, a vacant expression on her face as she pushes her food around her plate.

“Ney, you’ve hardly touched your food. Aren’t you enjoying it?” Questions Rey.

On Ben’s left side, Grey gives his father a pained expression as he chews his food. Ben fights a chuckle as he’s reminded of their conversation the previous night as they were washing up.

_“Dad does mom really have to cook tomorrow? Can’t you do it?! I swear if I eat another Nuna that’s drier than the Jakku desert, I’ll hurl,” whispers Grey, as Rey is in the living room and very much in earshot._

_“Your mom wants to cook for us. Be grateful,” Ben laughs, silently enjoying how funny it is to torture his children with their mother’s cooking that he’s had to endure far longer than they have._

“Oh,” replies Aneya flatly, “It’s not the food. It’s great, thanks mom,” she lies. 

“What’s up, kid?” Ben asks, knowing when something is bothering his family more than he knows his own self.

Aneya shrugs at her father. “Guess I’m still pissed because I couldn’t hit the blasts from the training remote,”

“Oi!” Rey points at Aneya. “Jar. Now.” 

Aneya huffs and drags her feet as she walks to put a credit in the swear jar on the kitchen worktop. Ben chuckles at his daughter's profanity and suddenly she reminds him very much of a stubborn young Rey, causing him to love his daughter that much more (if it were even possible).

She plops back down on her chair. “Sorry mom.” 

Grey laughs at Aneya’s expense. She subtly flips him the bird in retaliation, underneath the table so that their mother can’t see. Ben pretends he didn’t see.

“You will be,” Rey teases through a full mouth of her dinner. 

No matter how many years his wife spends around food, her table manners never improve. Almost as if she still expects someone to steal it from her, she inhales it as fast as she can.

Ben thinks back to a time when her eyes used to widen out of her head when she saw large amounts of food laid out for her, or when he began to cook for her when their relationship was still new. Her eyes still twinkle with wonder, though not nearly as much as the time she burst into tears when Ben took her to an all you can eat buffet for the first time.

“Don’t stress yourself over that anyway, mesh’la. You’ll get there, just need to practice that’s all. You have any idea how long it took your mom to get the hang of it when she started training?” Ben smirks at his wife, earning him a jab in the ribs at his teasing.

“Your father’s right, Ney. You’re doing amazing with your meditation and studies —those bloody blasts are nightmares.” Rey runs a hand up her husband’s arm in a loving gesture.

“Bet I could hit more than you, Ney,” teases Grey, his face full of his shit eating grin.

“Greyson Solo, you’re pushing your luck today. Don’t wind your sister up, she’s upset,” scolds Rey.

Ben often leaves Rey to do the reprimanding and the telling off. He can’t bring himself to get mad at his children; he lets them off too easily Rey says. Ben decides he doesn’t care he’s wrapped around their fingers; he rather loves it actually.

Their house will never be a loud one —save for hysterical laughter or excitement. There will be no shouting matches, no arguments that frighten; only acceptance and understanding. And when Ben and Rey argue —though it happens rarely, they still do— it will never be in front of their children. It will never be something they go to bed angry over, never be loud enough to worry their daughters and sons. Because Ben knows. He knows from experience what it’s like when parents shout, when a child worries they’re the reason, when hateful words split the comfort shrouded over all they’ve known.

“I have a date next week,” says Maiia. Ben’s left eye twitches. “Can I borrow your purple dress mom?” 

“—which boyfriend is it this week, May?” Interrupts her twin.

Rey tuts at Aneya’s comment and Ben distracts himself from the entire notion of his baby girl having a —he refuses to say the word— by playing with Tai. He’s still a baby; Ben wishes they’d all stay this age. 

“Well, he’s not my boyfriend _yet_ , Ney. And his name is Iden, if you must know. He’s very smart.” 

Aneya rolls her eyes and Ben can’t help but agree with her reaction. No boy will ever be good enough for his girls —or boy. Rey’s convinced Tai’s gay even though he’s two.

“I’m sure he’s lovely, sweetie,” —Ben’s eye twitches again— “of course you can borrow my dress, if that’s alright with your father. He did buy it for me, after all.” Rey nudges his arm with her elbow, clearly wanting him to get involved in this whole _situation._

“Huh? Oh, yeah sure. You look lovely in purple, purple like our Lightsabers,” Ben smiles at his daughter. She smiles down at her plate in reply. 

Ben wasn’t surprised to see that all of his children had extremely unconventional Kyber Crystals call for them when they all began their training, or how susceptible they all would be with the Force. With their Dyad, Rey’s gold and Ben’s own purple Lightsaber, he always excitedly anticipated how their children would turn out.

He was not disappointed.

Maiia’s Crystal turned a luxurious purple like his own, though slightly more pastel. Her sabre’s hilt was pure silver, the metal twisting in an elegant pattern above the grip in a way that mimicked the twists of her hair. It was single beamed and her fighting technique was extremely acrobatic, almost dance like, which wasn’t surprising due to her affiliation with Ballet.

Ben had unabashedly cried the first time he had watched Maiia dance. She was so talented; she had easily outshone the rest of the dancers in her class.

Aneya’s Crystal, in complete contrast to her twin’s, had no colour. It had remained an angelic white; the beams from her double bladed saber glowed in a way that reminded Ben of the argent glimmer from the moons. Ben had only ever heard of a very few Force users in the past that wielded a white saber, the main reason being their complete distancing from both Jedi and the Sith teachings —extremely fitting for his beautifully unique daughter. The hilt was midnight matte black in a conventional shape that a lot of the Old Republic Jedi crafted.

Aneya had a strong enjoyment with learning history that he supposed she’d picked up from him, though she was far smarter and academic than he had ever been; her eidetic memory was something to be marvelled. 

Aneya’s fighting style was a mixture of her mother’s and his own that was slightly more aggressive than perhaps it should be. Though, she often relied more upon the Force when in combat rather than her weapon. 

Finally, Greyson’s Lightsabers had been the most surprising of them all. His beams from both his main and smaller saber burned a fantastic orange, something that Ben had only heard rumours of Force users possessing. 

Ben supposed the colour was extremely fitting for his son who appeared to do nothing more than run his mouth off; he was extremely opinionated and often his arguments left little to debate. He could be very convincing at times and negotiations were short.

Greyson’s hilts were wooden, more specifically made from Brylark wood native to Kashyyyk —much to his Great-Uncle Chewbacca’s delight. The shapes mimicked tree branches and were adorned with a small metal broach like pattern where the buttons were located. Greyson’s fighting style utilised two sabres and was slightly acrobatic like his sister’s. 

Ben couldn’t wait to see how Tai’s Kyber would present itself and how he would build his saber. 

Aneya takes a rather loud sip from her Meiloorun Juice disrupting Ben’s thoughts, obviously bored with the current topic of conversation: Dresses and Boys. 

Despite his girls being twins, they couldn’t be more different in comparison. While Maiia preferred typically feminine prospects like dresses, makeup and played with dollies when she was small, Aneya preferred a natural look. Opting for leggings and boots rather than skirts, and had a rather large collection of model aircraft that she had gifted to her younger brothers when she had grown out of toys. She reminded Ben very much of Rey. 

When the family of six had finished their dinners, with Grey grumbling about having to do the dishes _again,_ Ben places Tai back on the living carpet so he could continue his playtime. He asks the twins to watch over their brothers while he takes his wife for an evening walk, something that has become a weekly habit for the Dyad.

He takes Rey’s hand, leading her outside to their large back garden, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat of the kitchen from her cooking. He leads her down a stone path with colourful flowers experimentally scattered alongside it —Rey had taken up a very skilful hobby of gardening when they had first moved here, wanting their children to grow around green and foliage and _life_. She’d never explicitly told him but Ben knew, he knew that Rey wanted their childhood to be filled with nature instead of the sand and heat his wife had become accustomed to in her own early years.

It’s peaceful, their life. _Finally._

They earn their money from farming vegetables and keeping cattle, despite having inherited a rather hefty sum of Credits in Leia’s death. They live the life Ben had always dreamed of, one of love, of family, of _happiness._

He presses a kiss to her forehead, relishing in her contented sigh, how the Force and their bond sparkles pleasantly in the air surrounding them. He tells her that he loves her more and more every passing day, that he is grateful for this life, for her love, for their children and thanks her for giving them to him. He tells her that she is his everything, his sun, his light, his other half of his soul. And to his own surprise she says the same to him, still never quite used to the concept of being loved and adored as she does for him.

Ben thanks the Force for this second chance he has been given. For it gifting Rey to him, his children. And Ben Solo decides that everything he’s ever had to endure was worth it, if this was waiting for him. 

Ben Solo decides that he is the luckiest man in the entire universe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: @rosetintedlightsaber


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